


oh don't you put me on the backburner

by dizzyondreams



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Requited Unrequited Love, frenemies to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 17:09:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6915874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzyondreams/pseuds/dizzyondreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He and Eren had an easy sort of rivalry/friendship that mostly accumulated in snippy arguments about who hadn’t washed up after cooking and who’d been making too much noise coming in late at night. Eren liked partying, boys and sleeping, in that order. Jean was into working himself in the ground over deadlines and not a lot else. Though somehow, they fit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh don't you put me on the backburner

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted to tumblr @ girlshinji but i decided to move it here !

A lot of things reminded Jean of Eren.

Coffee stained mugs left haphazardly stacked in the sink. The smell of smoke and cheap shampoo, getting up in the night to find post-it notes filled with scrawled writing on the counter. Grey beanies and doc martens shoved under the table from coming home late at night. An insomniac’s manic restlessness as he tap, tap, tapped on the counter in front of him.

“Stop that.” Jean muttered, the repetitive noise jolting out of his thoughts as he glared across the kitchen at Eren, who narrowed his eyes back.

“Make me.” He countered, and Jean rolled his eyes in annoyance before sighing and standing.

“You’re fucking insufferable.” He said, stepping over Eren’s boots as he left the room. “And put your shoes away for once in your life.” He added sourly, letting the door swing shut behind him.

\-----

They’d kissed one time, when Eren was drunk and beaten up, and Jean had been so worried he’d just grabbed him and pulled him in close.

It wasn’t anything to write home about; the taste of blood being the most overwhelming thing about it, but since then Jean hadn’t been able to think straight. Literally.

He and Eren had an easy sort of rivalry/friendship that mostly accumulated in snippy arguments about who hadn’t washed up after cooking and who’d been making too much noise coming in late at night. Eren liked partying, boys and sleeping, in that order. Jean was into working himself in the ground over deadlines and not a lot else. Though somehow, they fit.

It was infuriating, the weird semi-crush Jean had on this guy that he’d known since forever. Lying in his bed late at night while the sounds of Eren fucking some guy he’d brought home, catching sight of hickies on his neck or a stranger sheepishly making himself breakfast in the morning…God, Jean was _jealous_. Jealous that all he was good for was patching Eren up after a night out or as somebody to argue with when Eren was feeling shitty.

He was brooding over it as he watched Eren making himself coffee, eyes on the strong line of his shoulders and his small waist.

“So what’s up your ass today, Kirschtein?” Eren asked without turning around, the carefully flippant tone making Jean roll his eyes in irritation. Eren was terrible at masking his feelings, and even worse at trying to cover up concern for people. He was one of those people who said exactly what came into their head: no filter whatsoever. Knowing this made Jean more annoyed than he had been.

“What’s that supposed to mean.” He answered shortly, dropping his gaze from Eren’s seemingly mesmerising back.

“You seem pissed off.” Eren said matter-of-factly. For a moment there was silence, the only sound the clinking of Eren’s spoon against the inside of his mug.

“Maybe it’s because I was kept up late last night.” Jean said finally, staring at the tabletop as if the grain of the wood could save him from Eren Jaeger trying to have a heart-to-heart with him.

Eren turned around at that, Jean following the movement unconsciously and scowling as he realised what he was doing. Eren was grinning, that sly, lopsided smile that Jean loved and hated.

“I didn’t realise I was that loud.” Eren said lightly, and wow, Jean did not want to be having this conversation. He did not need to discuss how loud Eren got during sex, and how Jean apparently cared enough to be pissed off about it. He did not need the acknowledgement that he’d heard Eren having sex, because that just led to embarrassing recollections of jerking off late at night, imagining he was the one making Eren sound like that.

Jean just glared across the kitchen at Eren and said nothing.

“Okay, whatever,” Eren conceded, leaning back against the counter, mug in his hands. “We both know you’re deflecting so.” He shrugged. “Spit it out. It’s not like you usually hold back on shit I’ve done to piss you off.”

He made a point. Jean exhaled slowly; trying to pack as much irritation into the action as possible in the hopes that Eren would drop it.

“I was just thinking about how I’m some cheap nanny for you when you come home drunk or beat up, and not a lot else.” Jean said in a rush, eyes trained on Eren’s socks. He knew he wouldn’t have the balls to say anything if he was looking Eren in the eye.

Eren was silent for a second, and when Jean glanced up he was eyeing him over the rim of his mug, looking thoughtful. “You’re my friend, Jean.” He said slowly. “I’m sorry if you think I’ve been taking advantage of you.” Jean shrugged awkwardly and glanced away. “But it’s not my fault you’re some sort of shut in.” Eren added, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Jean snorted and shook his head, pushing the chair back before standing. “Whatever.” He muttered. “You’ve gotta make everything into a fucking joke.”

“And you’ve always gotta leave your sense of humour at the door, Jean.” Eren drawled, eyes following Jean as he stalked towards him to put his cereal bowl in the sink with a clatter. Eren, being the stubborn little fuck he was, didn’t move an inch, just let Jean wedge in next to him to lean across and turn the tap on.

“Maybe I’m just having a hard time finding it when my roommate is being such a cock.” Jean said in a low voice, scrubbing viciously at the leftover oatmeal in his bowl, left to go hard and cold as he’d brooded over Eren’s ass or whatever.

Eren snorted and shook his head, moving away from Jean to take a seat at the table. Jean didn’t turn, just set his clean bowl on the side and wondered when exactly he’d become so easy to wind up. He let out a long breath.

“I’m gonna go study.” He bit out, and turned on his heel and left before Eren could make any more barbed comments about him being a workaholic.

He worked long enough that night that he heard Eren go to bed before him, the soft click of his door then the sound of the bed creaking as he got comfortable. Jean stared at the wall in front of him, knowing Eren was just on the other side. Slowly, he dragged his attention back to his laptop, pulled his brain back to 18th century literature and away from the memory of how Eren’s face looks when he’s asleep.

He only realised he was clenching his jaw when his head started to ache.

———

Jean was pretty sure love wasn’t meant to feel like this. A slow dragging unhappiness in his chest that brimmed over whenever Eren pulled a guy on a night out, or leaned into his side as they smoked together outside. The sharp smell of his cologne, the leather smell of his jacket. Smells that reminded Jean of uncomplicated summer nights and laughing so hard his throat hurt from the happiness.

Jean had seen the romcoms. He’d heard the love songs. Love was meant to make you see birds, or little floating hearts, that shit. Not make you grouchy and snappish towards the object of his (misplaced) desires.

He was mulling over this on the train ride home, music just loud enough to make him less irritated by the people pressing in on all sides.

Eren would be home already. Maybe Mikasa and Armin would be there; they were all free on Tuesdays. Armin could tell Eren off over the general state of the flat, Mikasa would make Jean nervous. Eren would be sprawled over the couch, a trail of his things leading from the front door to the living room.

Jean told himself it was for the best. Some distraction from the weird half-sinking half-floating feeling in his chest whenever he was around Eren these days. Maybe it would stop them from arguing a little. Armin had always been a good buffer for their bullshit. He stepped off the train, began the walk back to their flat.

The house was conspicuously empty when Jean came home, no scattered shoes by the door, no bag thrown carelessly along with a jacket on the couch. No Eren, no nobody. Jean pulled his shoes off; hopping a little as he lost balance, ears straining for any indicator that his housemate was home.

There was a stone cold cup of coffee on the counter, black. If it was Eren’s (and Jean couldn’t think who else it could’ve belonged to – did thieves often make themselves coffee in the middle of robbing a poor student flat?) he must’ve been interrupted halfway through making it, because he never drank it black.

Jean continued his investigation.

Down the hall, a quick peek in his own room revealed no Eren. He didn’t know why he’d even checked, but it was possible he could’ve caught Eren trying to do something obnoxious to his stuff. He nudged open the door of the spare room, then knocked lightly on the bathroom door, which swung open at his touch. No Eren.

He was standing in the hall weighing up whether it was worth possible death to take a look in Eren’s room when he heard a voice coming from inside. He crept a little closer.

It was Eren, who was either talking to himself or on the phone. Either options were completely plausible, and Jean leant a little closer to try and make out his words.

“I don’t know how I’m gonna break it to him, though, Armin.” Eren’s voice was quiet, which was odd in itself. Jean assumed he was talking on the phone, because he heard no reply before Eren let out a frustrated sigh and said, “I’ve never told him, that’s what.”

Jean knew deep down that he should’ve walked away, but his curiosity kept him listening. Who were they talking about, and why did Eren sound so upset? He leant up against the doorframe, settling his weight carefully so the floor didn’t creak under him.

“It’s just a shit situation all round.” Eren muttered, so quietly Jean barely heard him. “He’s gonna have to find a new flatmate, I’m never gonna see him or most of you guys anymore, and he’s never gonna know how I feel.”

Jean stared intently at the door, ears ringing. New roommate? How Eren felt? He was undoubtedly talking about Jean, unless he had some other secret flatmate in the city. He felt his stomach twist nervously, and was just considering walking away and leaving Eren to his phone call when Eren sighed and murmured, “I’ve been acting like a dick towards him for forever,” He paused, then snorted, “No, I mean more than usual. He’s not gonna take it well, and even if he is interested, does he really seem the sort to do long distance?” He laughed again, a little sadly, and Jean felt his heart squeeze.

It was too much information all at once and Jean stepped away from the door before he heard any more, made his way back down the hall to his room as quiet as possible. As soon as he was inside he closed the door, slumped back against it, glanced at the wall that joined their rooms.

Eren’s words replayed themselves in his head, and he felt himself flushing as he dragged a hand over his face. Eren liked him? Eren was moving out? Was he ever gonna tell Jean this or drop it on him last minute?

He didn’t want a new roommate, he realised, he wanted Eren’s shoes shoved haphazardly under the table, his clothes laying all over the place, the smell of bacon in the mornings. He’d even deal with no hot water if it meant that Eren didn’t move out. Because Eren…had feelings for him? The thought was too weird to comprehend, and Jean crossed his room to sit heavily on his bed, face in his hands. All this time Jean had been working himself up to a stomach ulcer over Eren and his stupid one night stands and sleepy morning smile, and all this time Eren had liked him? It was unreal, and Jean could barely process it.

He ended up falling into a fitful sleep, too anxious to leave his room for food in case he ran into Eren and he tried to have The Talk with him. The moving Talk, the feelings Talk. Jean just did what he did best, and ignored it, fell asleep with the thoughts running around his mind and keeping him half-lucid all night.

———

Jean awoke to a note pushed under his door, Eren’s barely legible chicken scratch telling him he was cooking for both of them that night, ‘so don’t go eating anything else, fucker’. His barely awake brain failed to process it, and it was only later over a cup of coffee that he remembered what had happened the previous night. He could feel anxiety balling up in his chest, and he took a hasty swig of coffee to try and dispel it, went for a smoke.

Eren got home from class about an hour after Jean, who was sitting at the table being twitchy and generally nervous. Eren gave him a cursory hello and began pulling ingredients out of the fridge.

“You went shopping?” Jean managed, eyeing up the fridge, which wasn’t bare for once. He’d even bought Red Bull, which Jean drank like water and Eren couldn’t stand.

“Yeah.” Eren said, digging around under the sink for a pan. “Making curry, but there was like, one onion and some off milk in there when I checked.”

Jean ran his tongue around his teeth. No wonder his coffee had tasted weird that morning. “Thanks.” He said, then, “Do I owe you, or?”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Eren said shortly, giving him a funny little smile over his shoulder. They lapsed into silence, and Jean realised that was the first time they’d spoken without arguing for almost a week. An unreadable feeling settled into his gut, and he looked down at his hands, picked at the skin around one nail.

“So what’s the occasion for this.” Jean said, nodding at the pan on the stove, the peppers Eren was cutting. Eren shrugged, eyes on the counter, cutting the vegetables deftly. He’d always said he would’ve gone to culinary school if university hadn’t worked out. A sudden flash of realisation came to Jean. Maybe he was moving universities?

“I figured we haven’t eaten together for a while.” Eren said, cutting through Jean’s thoughts. “Haven’t hung out for a while.” He gave Jean another lopsided smile, and Jean didn’t miss the way his jaw was tight with nerves.

“We had Chinese like a week ago.” Jean reminded him, drumming on the table as he watched Eren cook. He looked at ease in the kitchen, always. Shoulders losing that caged sort of tenseness they usually had. His mood was often better too, and Jean settled himself back in the chair to watch.

“That doesn’t count.” Eren said with a huff, turning the heat down. “I mean we haven’t cooked together for a while.”

“You want me to help?” Jean asked, surprised. Normally Eren banned him from even breathing the same air as him when he was cooking. Jean was a renowned bad cook, and burnt almost everything he cooked. He was used to the slightly charred flavour by now.

“You can cut the veg if you like.” Eren said carelessly, stepping aside to make a space for Jean. “Even you can’t fuck that up.” He grinned, a little bit more humour in it now. Jean rolled his eyes and scoffed, but joined him at the counter.

They worked next to each other in silence for a while, and despite Jean’s trepidations, it was nice. They hadn’t shared a comfortable silence like this for a while, and the sound of water bubbling, Eren humming and the steady tick of the clock added a cosy backdrop to it.

“How was your day?” Jean asked, leaning past Eren to drop some celery in the sauce. He smelt the same as he always did, like smoke and soap and Jean found himself lingering long after his hands were empty. Eren glanced up at him, a funny half smile on his face, and Jean cleared his throat and stepped away.

“It was fine.” Eren said, turning his attention back to stirring the pot, that smile lingering. “Nine am seminar kicked my ass, but I’m still alive.”

Jean hummed in response, too focused on not cutting his thumb off to think of a witty reply. They were silent again, before Eren set down his spoon and sighed.

“Alright, Jean.” He said, a note of finality in his tone making Jean snap his head up, anxiety curling in his chest again. “I’ve got something to tell you-”

As if by some divine intervention, Jean chose that exact moment to sink the knife firmly into the side of his thumb. He yelped and dropped the knife, Eren cursing and searching around for a paper towel to wrap around it.

“Keep this pressed to it.” He said, pushing a wad of kitchen roll into Jean’s hands and disappearing down the hall. Jean held the paper over his thumb, wincing at the throbbing of the cut as he peeled it away to inspect the wound.

“I told you to keep pressure on it.” Eren said, exasperated, reappearing with the medical box from the bathroom in his hand.

“It’s not that deep.” Jean said, letting Eren manoeuvre him into a seat at the table. “Eren, seriously, it’s fine.” He said, laughing a little at the look on Eren’s face. “Don’t worry.” He added, watching as Eren slumped over, face in his hands. “Eren?”

“This was meant to go better.” Eren mumbled from between his fingers.

Jean felt a little lost. “What? The curry? It’s still good man, I didn’t bleed on anyth-”

“No, I mean,” Eren cut him off, then sighed. “I have to tell you something.” He repeated, and Jean felt the knot in his chest return.

“Shoot.” He said, trying to sound as casual as possible. He watched Eren struggle for a moment, then he sat back in the chair opposite with a huff.

“I’m moving out.” He said quietly, not looking at Jean, who felt the knot grow as his suspicions were confirmed.

“Why?” He asked, looking at the tight line of Eren’s jaw, the way his eyes were focused off someone else. “Where?”

“I got accepted on an exchange programme.” He said in a low voice. “A chance to study in New York, but I’ve gotta move out at the end of this semester.”

Quickly, Jean did the maths. Three weeks, and Eren was gone. He tried to think of something to say, but Eren barrelled over him.

“And I fucking like you, Kirschtein, and I don’t wanna leave, but-“ He shrugged, then tilted his chin up a little, glaring at Jean like he was daring him to freak out.

Jean tried to keep his freak out internal. “You-”

“I like you, Jean.” Eren said, leaning forward in his seat. “I have for a while but,” He looked away again, shrugged. “Whatever, never got the courage, or something.”

Jean’s mind tried desperately to catch up with the conversation. “Wait, you- what?” He spluttered. “Eren, I-”

Eren just shook his head and began to stand, “You don’t need to say anything, but I needed to get it all out in the open, so.” He pushed the medical box Jean’s way. “Patch yourself-.” He began, but stopped when Jean wrapped his fingers around his wrist, keeping him there. “Jean?” He murmured, eyes flicking from Jean’s fingers to his face and back.

“Let me finish.” Jean said, feeling oddly calm. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, Eren shaking the hair out his eyes, scowling down at Jean and shifting his weight on his feet. God, Jean had fallen hard. “I like you too.” He said, feeling himself flush a little out of embarrassment. “I have for like, a long time.” He admitted, and watched as Eren’s eyes grew wide.

“For real?” Eren asked, looking oddly vulnerable. Jean nodded, then tugged on his wrist until Eren stepped closer, his knees bumping against Jean’s, the corner of the table digging into his hip. Jean pulled him down, and felt the knot of nerves in his chest loosen at the hazy look in Eren’s eyes as they fluttered shut, and then his breath was on Jean’s lips. Jean tightened his fingers a little, and Eren closed the distance with a little sigh, pressing his lips to Jean’s gently, like he may push him away any second.

Jean slid his hand up Eren’s arm, curled his hand around Eren’s nape and tugged him a little closer so he could deepen the kiss. Eren nipped playfully at his lower lip, smiled into the kiss when Jean made a disgruntled noise and pulled at his hair a little.

“I can’t believe you strung this out so long.” Eren mumbled, punching Jean lightly on the arm as they pulled apart. Jean pulled a mock-offended face, trying to keep his grin under control.

“I thought you weren’t interested! I wasn’t the one bringing random guys home!”

Eren rubbed at the back of his neck, a little abashed. “Yeah, whatever.” He glanced towards the stove, then did a double take in horror as he realised the curry was bubbling over. “Oh, shit.” He said, pulling away from Jean to turn the heat down. “Don’t laugh!” He said, pointing the spoon at Jean with a badly concealed grin stretching across his face. “You seduced me and now I’ve ruined this!”

“I’m bleeding!” Jean cried, feeling like his heart was gonna burst with how light it felt. “I could’ve bled out!”

“Shut up, Kirschtein.” Eren muttered, shaking his head and throwing him a hopeful little look. “Come stand here and offer moral support.”

“Fine.” Jean said, rising to come stand next to Eren. He wondered if it would be okay to put his arm around his waist, or put his face in Eren’s mass of hair like he’d always wanted to.

“Stop staring.” Eren commented, and then leant into Jean’s side a little as he measured out rice. Jean looked down at the crown of his head, feeling a wave of affection rise up in him.

“I can deal with long distance.” He blurted, then flushed as Eren looked up at him curiously. “I mean, if you wanna.”

Eren grinned at him, then went back to the food. “Sure.” He said softly, “That sounds cool.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading! title is from all these things that i've done by the killers :^)


End file.
